


Of Hats And Crowns

by sessrumnir



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Alternative Universe - Kingdom, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-22 00:55:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12469892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sessrumnir/pseuds/sessrumnir
Summary: Sighing again, the King looked at the girl sitting at his feet and gestured for her to leave. She scurried away, and he finally put his shoes on and stood up, sheathing his sword.“All right. Who’s this man asking for such an urgent meeting, anyway?”The servant gulped. “A pirate, Sir.”





	Of Hats And Crowns

“Sir.”

The King did not look up. He could not, at this point, be convinced to do so. He was distracted, relaxed, the weight of his sword miraculously _not there_. Not too far away, of course, he could still touch it if he felt the need - but not hanging from his waist.

“ _Sir._ ”

He sighed. Did he really need to open his eyes? Was it _absolutely necessary_? He flexed his toes and heard the girl giggle. She paused, long, thin fingers still pressing against his skin. She gave great massages but he could never remember her name. Something from the South, definitely. The servant standing at the door cleared his throat.

“Sir, there is a man—”

“For all Gods above,” the King’s eyes flew open as he drew his feet away from those beautiful fingers. “What is the matter?”

Lips quivering slightly, face pale from the wrath that seemed to emanate from the King, the servant lowered his head. “A meeting, Your Majesty. You are required in the Red Room.”

The King snorted. “Required? Where’s Mary?”

The man looked white as linen. “Still out. The Queen has sent word that she may not return this evening. Sir.”

Sighing again, the King looked at the girl sitting at his feet and gestured for her to leave. She scurried away, and he finally put his shoes on and stood up, sheathing his sword.

“All right. Who’s this man asking for such an urgent meeting, anyway?”

The servant gulped. “A pirate, Sir.”

 

* * *

 

There were two guards in the Red Room, as usual. The man - the pirate! - was standing to the far right, examining one of their biggest maps. It was an old thing, deteriorating with time and left to do so; many of the lands there had been conquered and destroyed since it had been painted. The pirate was studying it carefully, though, nose almost touching the fabric. The King made a point in walking in noisily, but the man did not move, nor seem eager to bow to him any time soon.

 _Very well, then_ , thought the King. He sat down on his throne, posing as powerfully as he thought possible. His voice came out level, strong. Mighty.

“I understand we have a matter to discuss.”

The man turned around, standing up straight and smiling. He was tall, a lean figure that would tower over the King if they stood side by side, undoubtedly; his hair was dark and unruly. The King could see his eyes were clear and bright, his teeth too white for a man of the sea.

“Yes. Very much so. May I approach?”

The King nodded, jaw set. The pirate took a few steps closer, holding his hat against his chest.

“Queen Mary has been most helpful with the matter at hand. We were supposed to discuss our plan later this week, but problems arise whether we would like them to or not.”

His lips curved slightly upwards, and the King wondered if he should address it. Was he making a joke? Did he think the King had nothing better to do than listen to a pirate’s cries all day? Before he could come to a decision, the man had continued.

“I need manpower. Two ships, at most. We will sail six hours west, towards the Greater Land—”

“Wait,” the King interrupted him. “You’re asking for a ship.”

“Two.”

“And men to sail with you.”

“ _For_ me, but yes, it is possible to put it that way.”

There was a moment of silence in which the King stared at him with furrowed eyebrows. He finally broke into laughter.

“Who _are_ you?”

“Sherlock Holmes,” the man said simply, with a smirk.

“No ‘Captain’?”

“Well, as soon as I have a ship. Low Lands or Grandshore?”

The King hesitated, unsure. “What?”

Sherlock Holmes’ eyes lay upon his shoulder. His left shoulder. There was no mistaking this, or his question, anymore. With a sudden rush that most certainly painted his face red, the King stood up, pointing a finger at him. “Who told you this?”

“No one,” the pirate raised his eyebrows.

“Was it Mary?”

“Queen Mary has better topics to discuss other than your ancient injury, I must assure you. Now, we do not have much time left, Your Majesty.” His eyes twinkled as he said this, and the King was sure that it was insolence. “For The Spider will be reaching your ports this hour tomorrow.”

The King blinked in surprise. “No.”

“Oh, yes,” he said, approaching the map he had been studying earlier, playing with the hat on his hands. “He has a small army with him. I have no reason to believe we could win if it came to that, which is why I need two ships to ruin his plan, or at the very least stall his army.”

“I had no idea such ship even existed,” the King said in a small, ridiculous voice, but the pirate ignored him.

“If Your Majesty had any interest in your Kingdom, I am sure you would know this by now. Queen Mary has not spared a coin in protecting this land, which is why we are still here today. Not for your own measures, King John, that is for certain. Ever since you inherited the throne at the young age of 24 you have not had a worry that has not concerned you directly.”

The pirate paused long enough to frown at something in the map before continuing, “Assuming you had been in the conquest of Grandshore or in the fierce battles of the Low Lands before that, your injury has kept you from battle more than your crown ever could, and has reminded you every day of what it was like to be doing something other than whoring around all day behind your Queen’s back, as if she would mind it herself.”

“Who do you think—”

“I am no one, Sir.” Sherlock Holmes looked back at him, piercing blue eyes blazing insanity. “Just what you will be if we do not stop The Spider and her captain, at once.”

 

* * *

 

“You are finally back.”

The Queen smiled as the mellow voice reached her ears. She had not seen Miss Adler come in, but she did not need to. Her perfume gave her away, as did the light thud of her boots. Still, the Queen did not turn. She continued to look through her books, certain that she was close to finding what she needed.

“It took a bit longer than expected,” she said. The soft hand of Miss Adler touched her elbow, and the Queen turned to her. The red lips, the arched eyebrows. Miss Adler had not aged a day since the last time they had seen each other, weeks before. “Unfortunately. I hope it is not too late.”

Trailing her fingers up the Queen’s arm, Miss Adler grinned. “Never too late, dear.”

“You are impossible,” the Queen said, smiling and shaking her head. She finally found the book she was looking for. The paper hidden inside looked old and about to crumble to pieces, but she could still read it. “Come on, we must find the Captain.”

As she turned around, the King walked into the room. He glanced at Miss Adler but ignored her presence, speaking to the Queen.

“Who in the forbidden laws is Sherlock Holmes?”

“Exactly the person I am about to meet,” she gestured with the paper in her hand and took two steps, pausing when the King took the same two steps towards her.

“Why? What—” the King stopped himself, let out a bitter laugh, and pointed at Miss Adler. “Can your friend here give us a moment?”

Miss Adler gave a short nod, smiling. “Always a pleasure, Your Majesty.” Turning to the Queen, she whispered, “I will be with Hooper.”

After she had left the room - the King watching her go, eyeing her trousers and vest with the unabashed curiosity of the powerful -, he turned to the Queen.

“I will see that man hanged.”

The Queen let out a sigh, walking towards the door again. “Sherlock? You will not, my dear. He is valuable, and a friend of mine.”

“He _insulted_ me, Mary!”

“Oh, you poor thing,” the Queen cooed as they walked the halls in a fast pace. “You cannot hang every man who dares to insult you, love. That is not how The Code works.”

“Well, it should be. And you had arranged ships for him, without telling me—”

At this, the Queen stopped. They were in one of their common rooms, and the curtains were fluttering just out of their touch as they faced each other. She took his hands, and he could see now how tired she looked. Her hair was falling off the clips, her lips had lost most of their rouge. Nevertheless, she stood tall, staring him in the eye.

“John. I trust him. Do you trust me?”

The King was restless, she could see that much, but he conceded. “Of course. Yes, of course, love. And I know you would do what is in the best interest of our Kingdom.”

“Precisely.” The Queen gave him a short kiss on the cheek and pulled him along as she resumed her walk. “Now we must ride to Cherries Port.”

 

* * *

 

The horses were noisy, the thunder of about ten animals that announced their presence long before the Queen called Hooper’s name. The healer must have been just inside her kitchen’s door for she was out in seconds, fixing her hair and pulling up her silk gloves. Miss Adler came right behind her, in time to help the nearly unconscious man dismount one of the guards’ horse. The Queen jumped off her own mount and followed closely as her guards and Hooper took the man inside, to the large wooden table.

“What happened?” Hooper asked. She had the usual driven look in her eyes, ready to go into action, pressing her fingers against chest, back, neck. The man just lay there, eyes rolling to the back of his head and clear foam dripping out of his mouth.

“We found him like this. No blood,” the Queen said. At once Hooper was opening cabinets and ordering one of the guards to fetch something with the apothecary. “John is at the port still, trying to find any signs of the person who did it.”

Hooper glanced at her, surprised, but never stopping her ministrations, “King John?”

“I am as surprised as you are,” the Queen shot back, grinning. She was eyeing the man on the table, worry creasing her forehead.

“Have you found the Captain?” Miss Adler asked. She was standing aside, letting Hooper work but watching with an intensity that left no doubt about whether she was enthrailed by it.

“He left already. I have word he is in Belgravis.”

“What about The Spider?”

“No sightings as of yet.” The Queen had been pacing around, trying not to interfere, but now she walked out the door, Miss Adler following her closely. “I should see the document reaches The Duchess as soon as possible.”

She mulled that over for a moment, the faint light of dusk aflame in her hair. Then she turned back to Miss Adler, “Are you working tonight?”

“I had plans to. There are two of them waiting for me, tied up at the house.”

“Can they wait?” The Queen asked, receiving a smile in response.

“Nothing they would love more.”

“Great.” She took the piece of paper from the sleeve of her dress and handed it to Miss Adler. “Get one of the horses, and any blade you see fit. Ride to The Duchess’ state, give it to her. Tell her it is imperative she sees it to the Council before dusk tomorrow.”

Miss Adler hid the paper inside her shirt, and started towards one the horses, but the Queen stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Take care, dear.”

“You know I will,” she said, kissing her briefly on the corner of her mouth. “Find your King. A poisoned man is as much of a message as it is a trap.”

 

* * *

 

The King opened his eyes slowly, feeling the back of his head throbbing before he felt the salt on his lips. The sound was deafening at first; he was confused, trying to associate the cold and the noise. What he saw before him was water. No — the ocean. He was looking at the ocean beneath him, but also directly in front of him. It made no sense. That is, until he felt something on his feet, and tried to move, but discovered himself unable to.

Then he screamed.

“Shut up,” a voice carried over to him. He could not see who had talked from where he was, tied to the bowsprit of a ship and hanging over the sea like a wooden figurehead. “If they find us before I get you out, we are done for.”

He knew that voice. It was a deep, insolent voice, one he had heard not long ago. In his confusion, he should have taken longer to remember the name, but it surfaced immediately to his mind and lips.

“Sherlock Holmes!”

“ _Captain_ Sherlock Holmes. I do have a ship now.”

“What are you doing?” He could feel the Captain fumbling with his feet, taking off his shoes, but he asked either way because he could not see the point of that.

“I am rescuing you, and you are very welcome, _Your Majesty_.”

“Rescuing me from what? Where am I?”

“Slip your feet through the ropes,” the Captain said from somewhere above him. “Try not to lose balance.” The King wanted to shout that _he did not have any damning balance hanging there like a pig_ but he swallowed it in order to comply and hear what the man said next. “I will turn you ‘round, bring you up. It might hurt.”

“What?”

“It _will_ hurt, in fact.”

The King felt himself being brutally shoved to his right. His back was alive with pain, and he imagined he was now sporting scratches from the wood holding him. He did his best not to cry out as the Captain hauled him up, burning his skin in the process. After what felt like a lifetime, he lay staring at the sky as Captain Sherlock Holmes started tearing the ropes around him with a small dagger.

“Oh, fuck me.”

He finally understood where they were. The ship loomed over them, lustrous but equally menacing under the moonlight. The King had never seen that ship, but he had heard about it. Had seen drawings, never quite this imperious, although accurate enough for him to recognise it.

This was The Spider. The cursed ship.

“At a better time,” the Captain interrupted his train of thoughts, finally worrying through the ropes. He had the care not to drop them in the ocean, instead lacing them through the wood and focusing on the last of the King’s bounds, holding his wrists together. “The Veritas is close.”

“Veritas?”

“My ship. She is a beauty,” the Captain smiled at him, eyes shining in the dark of the night. “But as of now—”

Someone was shouting. A man, from somewhere inside the ship. The Captain froze, turning his head slightly to the side, a finger on his lips telling the King to be silent. He stood up suddenly, long limbs taking him down the bowsprit and into the ship so fast the King did not have the time to stop him. Wrists still tied together, the King stood on his feet as best as he could and followed him.

They had come through a crack in the wood, dropping inside a dark room filled with heavy, dusty boxes. The King could not see the other man; the room looked empty. He tried whispering, but did not get an answer.

Cursing under his breath, he walked in the shadows until he reached a door. Before he could open it, the Captain appeared beside him, seemingly out of nowhere.

“ _Bloody fucking—”_

“We should go, right now.”

Opening the door, the Captain walked out first, the King on his heels. They walked up a set of stairs in near complete darkness and then another one that led out of a room full of barrels. Finally, they could see the moon as they walked out of the door—

And found themselves trapped in a circle of firearms and swords pointed at them.

“Oops.” A voice said from just behind the group of angry pirates around them. “You did not hope to walk out of my ship unnoticed, did you, Sherlock?”

Two of the pirates gave way to a short man in shiny boots. He stopped right inside the circle, and the King could see his eyelids painted pitch black as if he had just done it, despite it being nighttime. He had a vile smile as he looked from the King to the Captain.

“Did you bring me a present? Oh, you shouldn’t have bothered.”

“How could I not?” Said the Captain, and the King very nearly felt his heart jump out of his mouth with the idea that he had been lured there until he saw how Sherlock had not moved an inch. He was not smiling, either. “You will sail away of this Kingdom, James, or I will have you killed.”

The man - James - shrieked in delight. The King flinched, but he was the only one. No one else seemed surprised by this, which only told him one thing: he was their Captain. And if he was The Spider’s Captain…

“Captain Moriarty,” he wheezed. The man’s dead eyes were on him, watching. “You are Captain Moriarty. I thought you were just… Just a story. A legend.”

“Well,” James shrugged, smiling growing bigger. “Legends never die.”

“Are you sure?” Sherlock asked. The Captain was staring at the man, eyebrows furrowed, barely blinking. “We could put that to test.”

“With what? Your cute little knife and King Idiot here?”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, there was a blast. The ship rocked enough for the men to look around as they stood firmer, bits of wood flying through the deck. A second and third explosions set them in motion as it threw half the crew to the ground, the other half scattering around looking for cover, away from the source of the attack.

The Captain took the King by the sleeve and dragged him away while chaos broke out, running down a different set of stairs. They did not stop to look back, not even when a bullet whizzed past the King’s ear. The ship was still being attacked, the screams and explosions on deck echoed on their bodies; the Captain ran into a room and opened a latch. A small, ridiculous window opened up, and the King had trouble at first looking for the horizon. There was none, because there was another ship parallel to The Spider, cannons hard at work bombarding them.

“Veritas?” He asked, and saw a glimpse of the Captain’s smile to him. “How are we going to—”

The man jumped. The King was so surprised he gasped, running to the window to see the place Sherlock had just jumped into. The sea was agitated, and he did for a second hold his breath, thinking that was it: the mad captain had killed himself! But then he saw the man resurface and start swimming towards a floating wooden plank. It had a rope tied to it, a rope leading to—

“Jump, old man!” A distant voice shouted from somewhere in the other ship, and he could see people at the other end of the rope, throwing another plank into the water, also attached to a rope. “Jump, now!”

Only slightly offended by the _old man_ , the King perched himself on the window, looking down. It was a significant drop, and there was no way the water was anything less than ice cold. Seeing Captain Sherlock was almost at the other ship already, the King took a deep breath, braced himself, and jumped.

 

* * *

 

“How are you feeling?” The Queen asked him, taking him by the arm and leading him gently towards the small group of people gathered in the Coral Room. He looked better, as far as she could see - the purple of his lips had softened, and the color of his cheeks had returned. His back was covered, of course, and she could not see the healing wounds on it, despite his posture telling her the worst was past him.

He smiled fondly. “Much better, love. No need to worry.”

“Your Majesty,” Hooper said, curtsying. Miss Adler gave him a respectful nod, tipping her hat.

The Captain merely assessed him from head to toe with his bright eyes. “Fast recovery, I see.”

“No thanks to you,” the King said, and the Queen barely contained a snort. “Did we get word from The Dutchess?”

“She has just arrived,” the Captain said, grabbing a cherry from the table behind him and popping it into his mouth. The King squinted at him; the man winked back.

A servant chose that moment to announce, “Your Highness, The Duchess of Baker.”

The wide double doors were opened and the elegantly dressed Duchess walked in. She looked mighty, superior to every single one of them there - including the King and the Queen - but as she surveyed the room, her face melted into one of kindness. She smiled wide and greeted the royalty before hugging Hooper and a reluctant Miss Adler. “Oh, it has been forever, has it not? And you are?” She asked the Captain, who took her hand in a gentle kiss.

“Captain Sherlock Holmes, My Lady.”

The Duchess giggled happily as the Queen added, “The kind friend who helped us steer The Spider away.”

“A proper hero!” The Duchess said, not noticing the Captain’s frown.

“As I understand, the treaty is in place?” The King asked, gesturing towards the chairs displayed in the room. Three servants started serving them as they took their places, with The Duchess sitting between the King and the Queen.

“Why, yes — thank you, dear,” she said to the servant handing her a glass of wine, then back to them: “It was not that hard convincing them, not with that horrible thing in our own ports. Imagine that! Captain Moriarty, that wretched man lurking in the corners of our Kingdom! The treaty has been signed by the Council, after all these years, and the signing Kingdoms have been notified. The sea is now our shared responsibility.”

“As it should always have been,” offered Hooper, gulping down her wine when the eyes turned towards her.

“Thank you for coming to our aid, My Lady. This Kingdom has an ongoing debt to your services.”

The Duchess dismissed the Queen with a hand, laughing. “Oh dear, it was nothing. And I told you to call me Mrs Hudson.”

“Only if you will call me Mary.”

“I could never!” The Duchess said, making everyone laugh. They laughed, ate, and drank until Miss Adler had to leave to tend to her peculiar clients, as the Queen and Hooper knew very well, and a larger group of court members arrived to the feast.

It did not take long for the Captain to slip away unnoticed. Or so he thought. The Queen nudged her husband and indicated the retreating figure with her head. After a brief hesitation, the King stood up to follow him. As the Captain crossed a set of doors, the King was right behind him, watching as the man fiddled with the hat on his hands.

“I believe you owe me an apology. You know, for using me as bait in your plan,” said the King.

“Or what? You will have me hanged?”

“My Queen says I cannot hang every man that insults me.”

“Clever woman.”

“But I _can_ have someone who threatens my life hanged.”

The Captain turned to look at him, bright eyes glinting in the dark corridor. “Would you?”

“Gods, no,” the King chuckled. “You are a very insolent prick, but a useful one.”

Still playing with his hat, the Captain grinned. “Is that so, Your Majesty?”

“Oh, stick that _Your Majesty_ up your arse,” the King said as he shortened the distance between them and kissed the Captain fully in the mouth. Grabbing the hat from the man’s hand and putting it on his head, he completed in between kisses, “And you are a pirate, wear the damn hat!”


End file.
